


Bird In A Cage

by TheIskra



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26384065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIskra/pseuds/TheIskra
Summary: Bond is tired. Mallory offers a solution.
Relationships: James Bond/M | Gareth Mallory
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	Bird In A Cage

_Happiness Sleep_

_Job Spy_

_Agent Can we fucking not?_

_M ……_

Every bloody time and it only recently changed. He frowns at the examiner and then glances at the two-way mirror. “Master.”

He knows that can be interpreted in so many different ways. Being vague is his life’s work. With a clipped voice and an irritated look, it is interpreted as a negative. If Mallory is in a mood, he’ll see it that way too. However, what he wants, is for Mallory to hear it, hear the word other than _Sir_ and do what Bond so desperately wants him to do. But it’s been nearly a year and he is well aware that it won’t happen. He despises not getting what he wants but respects Mallory more than he’d ever admit and knows that’s the way it is.

_Country England_

_Bloefeld Enemy_

_Holiday Beach_

“Thank you, 007,” the examiner says politely before standing and leaving the room. He looks again at the two-way and nods before standing, straightening his tie and leaving back down the hall to Q branch to hand off his weapon and his gear (what’s left of it). He manages to drop it off while Q is elsewhere, saving him from uncomfortable conversations about the state of the vehicle and the destroyed communications device he threw in the Tiber.

The protocol now was different than it had been. Everything feels like a chore. Psych eval, visit to Q branch, and now to debrief with Mallory. It had been this way since he returned the last time. When he asked why the change, Mallory snorted. “ _Because I’m tired of having this conversation every bloody time you fuck off somewhere.”_

Walking into the office, he smiles to Moneypenny and hands her a pearl in a small black velvet drawstring bag. Every trip, he brings back something to keep her in his good graces. “Thank you, James.”

He notices the orchid on her desk and smiles. “Still tending to it?”

“Of course, eventually it comes back. Much like you.”

Someday he won’t. He’ll walk headfirst into a firefight and take a bullet to the chest or he’ll drink himself to death on some god forsaken island while trying to forget the monstrous things he’s done for the past fifteen years.

“He’ll see you now,” she says with a smile and the door clicks.

The soft smile he gives her is genuine. He trusts her, he adores her. And when he’s done, he’ll miss her. The heavy door feels heavier somehow as he pushes it open. The smell of the room makes him itch. The ever so slight lemon wood polish, the smell of old books that line the shelves and something else… him.

“Bond, welcome back,” Mallory says.

“Sir,” he responds, stepping inside and sitting in the leather chair opposite the desk. His eyes briefly move to it, seeing the panel that used to block the middle removed, showing Mallory’s black leather shoes, shined to perfection and the hint of socks. “You changed the desk.”

There’s a pause and Mallory nods at him. “I did. Now, on to business. Thank you for the timely report. A job well done.”

“Sir,” he responds but his heart isn’t in it.

Mallory taps his fingers on a file under his hand but then pushes it to the side. “I appreciate the work that you’ve done with the new agents. I think there’s something specific about what it is that you do that someone behind a desk is simply not able to provide.”

He’s now seen two agents promoted to the 00 program, both of whom were assigned to missions with him over the span of the past 18 months. “Thank you, sir.”

The silence in the room isn’t uncomfortable but it is noticeable. Mallory stares at him and even now, he cannot read him at all. “Do you know how long the longest serving 00 agent was on duty?”

“Twenty four years,” he replies. Trevelyan. His first handler in the field and an absolute pain in the ass. Cocky and smart, quick but careful, even towards the end. “Why do you ask?”

Mallory looks properly tired, he thinks. The evolution from cocky bureaucrat to capable and brave to stoic leader to someone who was (despite his misgivings about his lack of field experience) quite comfortable in the field under tremendous duress. None of this was lost on him. He knew the toll this job took on _her._ And now it’s wearing down another. “Because I’d like to offer you something that only you can do, only you have the capability for and the skills entailed to carry out.”

For a brief shining, smart ass moment, he thinks Mallory is going to let him under the desk again and his lips curl up briefly into a smirk. “And what would that be, sir?”

Mallory’s lips purse and he takes a breath. “I’d like to engage you in a more operational way. Take you out of the field and--.”

“No thank you,” he interrupts, standing and straightening his jacket. He is not going to be ‘put out to pasture’. “If you would like to fire me, that’s your decision entirely.”

“For fuck’s sake, Bond,” Mallory sighs, annoyed. “Put your pride aside a moment and listen to me. You are invaluable not only to the country but to the department. We’ve drawn your blood over and over again and I would rather not have to write your obituary. I would like to engage you as a trainer for the double 0 program. Now I understand if you tell me to fuck right off and disappear into the ether, but I do hope that you’ll consider it.”

He doesn’t move. His eyes move over this office, over the files and the laptop and the notes on the desk. The umbrella in the corner and the jacket on the hook. The books that are uneven and stacked, the two or three spaces and corresponding books on the small table next to the window. He doesn’t know how to do anything other than this. He doesn’t have the emotional capacity for a normal life and Mallory knows it. “Send me on one last one.”

“So you can kill yourself in the field, no,” Mallory quickly responds. “This isn’t a punishment, 007.”

He walks to the window, his hands sliding into his pockets. “A bird in a cage,” he mutters. “Not an old man’s game, is it?”

Mallory sighs. “You’ve had a brilliant run, Bond. And your knowledge and innate skills are invaluable.”

The skyline is darkening, early nights in the London winter. The lights in the buildings starting to come on, the reflection of the office in the window. He can see Mallory move from the desk and walk towards him, looking out at the city as he is.

“Why did you ask about Alec Trevelyan,” he asks, not really wanting to know the answer.

“He consults for us. Completely changed the workflow. What you seem to hate, he designed.”

He snorts. “That sounds about right.”

Mallory stands to his side, then turns, sitting on the window ledge, arms braced at his side. Bond sees him wince slightly. It’s the most relaxed stance he has seen since they met. Somehow unguarded in a way that excites him.

“I don’t know how to do anything else,” he admits.

“You’re an exceptional handler,” Mallory says. When he looks over, Mallory is staring at him, reading him somehow. “And you’d still work for me. In fact, you’d likely help determine who is best suited for assignments based on your field knowledge. I do hope you know that I do respect you.”

He’s defeated. A man without a task, without a way to work out his demons, working for a man who will never give him what he wants, a man who he’d give next to anything for. “Thank you, sir” is all he can manage. “May I have some time to think about it?”

“You may,” Mallory says. He searches for even a hint of pity, of disappointment but there isn’t any. Resignation perhaps. “I can set up a meeting, informally of course, with Mr. Trevelyan if you’d like to speak to the only person in history who has walked away from the job and lived to tell the tale. Perhaps he can offer some perspective on the transition.”

“Why now, if I may ask,” he tries.

Mallory stands again and heads to his desk, pulling out a bottle and two glasses, pouring them and handing one over. “Because I see value in the work that you do, that we collectively do. And I’m frankly unwilling to keep putting you in harm’s way. The price that you’ve paid for this place, the immense and frankly horrible price is unfathomable. I cannot in good conscience have you die on my watch. You are more useful to me in other ways.”

He snickers. “You have no idea, sir.”

“Oh, shut up,” Mallory snaps, taking a drink. “Your standard two-week grounding post mission is in effect. I know this is a significant change and you have every right to refuse me. My offer will be in writing within twenty-four hours. You will be the only Level One Handler the division has ever had. Your salary will be twice what it is currently. You will have file access and fitted with a complete set up across the hall. You’ll report to me and work closely with myself and Q to ensure the program is as rigorous and complete as it has ever been. You were right to call me out on my lack of field experience and that is why I’m creating this position. You are uniquely qualified.”

“And if I refuse?”

Mallory frowns but shrugs. “I would completely understand, and you’d be eligible for full honors and retirement package.”

The possibility of being stuck in an office is a dismal hell but he has no other option. He knows damn well that if he walks away, he’ll land on another beach, drinking himself to death and sleeping with whoever he can manage to pull. Equally dismal but at least he’d get sex out of the deal.

He sets his jaw and smiles. “Thank you for the offer, sir. I will consider it.”

Mallory’s brow furrows and he sighs. “You’re full of shit, Bond. You’re going to walk out of here, talk Q into giving you some kind of gear and fuck off for the next month, aren’t you? I asked you when I started what you needed to prevent you from bolting.”

His head suddenly spins. “Yes,” he says, his cock twitching.

“I will not see such willful insolence, 007. You will not take advantage of your Quartermaster, nor will you take advantage of Ms Moneypenny and her soft spot for you. I will give you a controlled environment as a means to prevent further damage to you and to this department. But I will not take the disrespect you have again shown. Take the role and stay, or leave and I shall not see you again. It is entirely your decision.”

His breathing quickens, his absolute desire to serve rising to the surface. “Sir, please.”

Mallory’s jaw tenses and he steps closer, making Bond’s mind spin. “This isn’t a bribe. Nor is this blackmail. Go home, go to sleep, come back tomorrow and sign the paperwork.”

He wants to climb him, mark his body, taste him, consume him, be utterly and completely destroyed by him. “Please,” he says, losing control quickly.

“Work for me,” Mallory says, voice firm. It’s not a request.

He licks his lips and swallows. “You know what I want,” he manages.

“And I cannot allow you to have what you want.” Mallory says. “Work for me,” he repeats.

It’s cruel. And they both know it. And in the end, Bond knows Mallory is saving his life, sparing him from more injury, more physically impossible tasks, a life that is quickly becoming untenable. Dangling the carrot of a _controlled environment_ in front of him, knowing that it is a better option, knowing that being a caged bird is better than being a dead agent, indelicately photographed in death and given an empty hero’s return that no one hears about. He’s a ghost. If he stays, he has a chance to change that.

The number of men who look vaguely like the man in front of him, the man whose voice he hears when he touches himself, that he’s drunkenly sucked off, can be counted on one hand. But he’s stubborn. And he’s reckless. And fuck all if he’ll ever get the opportunity for this again. “Let me kiss you. Then I’ll sign the paperwork. Right here, right now. I give you my word.”

Mallory exhales and steps away. “You’re dismissed, 007. You’ll have an email by the morning and one week to either accept or decline. Do not try to take advantage of my better nature again. Understood? Now get the fuck out of my office.”

There’s no weight behind the last sentence, no anger, just… Mallory. The Mallory he adores. “Yes sir,” he smiles, turning for the door.


End file.
